


Fire on the Mountain

by EmperorNorton150



Series: Catra's Coup [9]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diplomacy, Not Canon Compliant, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28506729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmperorNorton150/pseuds/EmperorNorton150
Summary: Trapped a seemingly endless diplomatic mission in the Far North, Glimmer starts to realize that there's more to learn from her rival than she had thought.
Relationships: Catra & Glimmer (She-Ra)
Series: Catra's Coup [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805098
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	Fire on the Mountain

“Absolutely not.” King Narwahl’s words fell into the meeting like a rock into a river, ripples of silence flooding away from them, cutting short side arguments and discussions. His mustaches bristled as he glared across the stone table. Beside him, his ministers and councilors froze, then fell into line, whiskers twitching and fur rustling as they composed themselves into expressions of Righteous Indignation. Olav, the Royal Chamberlin, stopped dead in the doorway, clutching the samovar of coffee he’d just arrived to deliver. Glimmer had to resist rolling her eyes. Outside, the wind howled, whipping gusts of snow across the mountain flanks and rattling the windows in their frames.

“That was not a request……Your Majesty.” The pause was just long enough to imply an insult without giving just cause for a complaint. Generalissimo Catra—Supreme Commander of the Horde, Protector of Dryll, Protector of the Scorpion Kingdom, Defender of Etheria—sprawled languidly in her chair, her head tilted back to stare at the intricate carvings decorating the ceiling, one leg perched on a neighboring seat, the claws on one hand drumming on the table. “The Horde will have overflight rights for our flyers and title to a refueling base within your territory. Don’t bother pretending you have a choice.” Several of the Selkies barked in outrage, and King Narwahl let out a truly impressive _harumph_.

“Am I supposed to be frightened, child? Galacia withstood the Horde for decades before your birth, we can withstand it again. You will break upon the teeth of our mountains!” He hammered the table in emphasis. Catra didn’t bother looking down.

“That was when you had your truce with the Kingdom of Snows, and the Horde was preoccupied chasing rebels through the Whispering Woods. Now, Princess Frosta stands with us, as does the rest of the Alliance.” Jørgensen, the First Seneseshal, turned to the King, his fur bristling with rage, one hand clenched on the hilt of his sword.

“Your Majesty, please! My knights stand ready to avenge these foul insults to your realm. Just give us the word!”

“Oh, knights. How delightfully quaint” commented Catra. “This is very amusing, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to bother threatening you. You need this alliance more than I do, and you’ll give me what I want to get it.”

“It was _you_ who begged us to join your coalition!”

“My allies think it’s a good idea” Catra said with a shrug. “Me? I’m not so sure.” She shot a glare over the table at Glimmer, but dropped one eyelid in a quick wink, before returning to her study of the granite panels overhead. _It was time._ Glimmer broke into the conversation, interrupting the King’s renewed round of spluttering. 

“Your Majesty, perhaps a compromise might be in order?” she asked gently. “The Horde to have rights of overflight over your country, but instead of being ceded a base of their own, the Kingdom of Galacia merely allows them to refuel and resupply within your territory. On _your_ terms.” Narwahl hesitated, then nodded.

“There will be no cession of our sovereignty, agreed?”

“ _Of course_ not” said Glimmer. “Isn’t that right Your Excellency?” She caught Catra’s eye and two stared for a long moment before the Generalisimo of the Horde flicked her ears and bowed her head. “Of course not, Your Highness” she murmured.

“Excellent. And—that deal would also apply to Bright Moon trade ships in your eastern ports, right?”

“Yes, yes, fine” growled King Narwahl.

“Excellent” Glimmer repeated, tapping the tracker pad in front of her and making a few notations. “Now, let’s move on to the question of shared military coordination in the event of attack or invasion.”

“It would be easier for everyone concerned if the amateurs just agreed to place themselves under the command of the Horde” put in Catra. The King started to swell with outrage, but Glimmer caught his eye and smiled wryly. He sighed, and subsided.

“I don’t believe it serves _anybody_ to denigrate our allies, Your Excellency. I was thinking that instead perhaps we could talk about a joint framework that would allow—”

* * *

This wasn’t the first diplomatic mission Glimmer had done with Catra since the signing of the Horde-Alliance Peace Treaty. The two had found themselves harrying off to a dozen or more foreign capitals over the last few years, trying to drag reluctant neutrals into their anti-Horde Prime coalition. They’d learned to anticipate each other, to learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses, to adapt to each other’s habits.

This was all to say that when Catra clambered through the window of Glimmer’s bedchamber that night, she wasn’t even a little bit surprised.

“Door” she said, pointing to the aforementioned feature without looking up from her tracker pad as Catra shook the ice from her fur. “Right there. Connects to a hallway, which I assume connects to your room eventually. You should try it sometime.”

“Hallways have servants and guards and courtiers and they _talk_ ” replied Catra.

“So? We’re honored guests, we’re allowed to be here. Unless—oh _no_ , are these people going to try and assassinate us _too_ —”

“No, no” Catra waved that away. “Don’t worry about _that_. But considering that we spent all day trying to convince Narwahl that we’re not on speaking terms, I thought it best to keep this discrete.”

“Fine” growled Glimmer. “Whatever”. Then she yelped as Catra dropped a massive sheaf of papers onto the bed next to her.

“Caaaatra!”

“Shut up sparkles.” She yanked a chair over and shoved an analysis of the projected output of the Galacian tungsten mines into the princess’s hands. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow, and we can’t actually talk about any of this in public.” Glimmer grumbled under her breath, but didn’t argue. Having Catra play the brutal, intractable Horde leader to Glimmer’s sweet voice of reason was too useful a diplomatic ploy to waste—though Glimmer was never totally sure how much of it was an act. With a sigh, she started the tedious process of planning out the next day’s agenda.

“Why” asked Catra about an hour later, “are you so focused on getting Galacia to cede control of the Silvertree Valley?” She sounded testy, possibly because the two girls had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to game out a strategy to get the King to agree to that, without much success.

“Frosta made me promise.” The Kingdom of Snows had been feuding with Galacia over it on and off again for the last century and she wasn’t going to sign a full alliance without finally getting it. Catra scratched behind an ear and frowned.

“It’s not like it has any resources or strategic importance. Can’t she just forget about it?”

“She’s very stubborn when she thinks she’s been wronged. You _know_ that.” Glimmer said with a pointed look.

“ _Hey_ , I apologized for the whole Princess Prom incident.”

“No, what you said was, and I quote ‘I’m sorry that you have such incompetent guards that they allowed some of your own guests to blow up half your palace and escape unharmed while they sat around trying to figure out what to do.’” Catra shrugged.

“Like I said, I apologized. Ok, _fine_ , we’ll trade valuable mineral concessions and trading rights for some useless plot of ice and dirt because it makes an eight-year-old monarch happy, that’s a _completely_ reasonable thing to do.” Glimmer glared. 

“As long as we’re talking _reasonable_ , what was that whole fight over flyer refueling rights this morning about?”

“Securing those rights was vital to the safety and future prosperity of the Horde.” Catra recited blandly.

“No, it’s not” snapped Glimmer. “You don’t have any bases within a hundred leagues of here, and there’s easier ways to get to the Northern Reach or the Growling Ocean than over the mountains. Bright Moon merchants are gonna get a _lot_ more out of that agreement than the Horde ever will.” Catra looked surprised.

“So, you do pay attention to the briefing papers. I’d wondered.” Glimmer squawked in outrage but Catra ignored her. “If you must know, I need a win. The Horde’s agreeing to underwrite a major loan and pass on a bundle of tech transfers, and the hardliners on the Command Council have been whining about it for weeks now. I need some unambiguous concessions to show them.”

“Since when do you care about other people think?” scoffed Glimmer. “Aren’t you supposed to have absolute power or something, O Mighty Supreme Commander?” Catra laughed softly under her breath.

“Do you know what ‘absolute power’ actually means, princess?” She didn’t give the other girl a chance to respond. “Absolute power means power _up to_ the point where you annoy enough people that they decide to get rid of you. And not _one_ inch further.” Glimmer leaned back against the headboard, eyes widening, as Catra reeled off the litany. “Let’s see—there are currently thirty-seven Force Captains. I trust, hmmm, maybe ten of them. Then there’s another dozen or so who are too cowardly or stupid to try anything. The rest would move against me in an _instant_ if they thought they could get away with it. Eighteen District Commanders—there’s really only three or four of them who are really loyal, but most of the others are too busy doing their jobs to cause trouble. Still five or six troublemakers though. Entrapta and Scorpia _could_ be major players if they wanted to so I have to keep and eye on them. And then there’s the tributary states and client kings—I wouldn’t trust _any_ of them not to stab me the back if given the opportunity.” 

“If you don’t like them—why don’t you just get rid of them?” asked Glimmer.

“Wow, you’re a bloodthirsty little princess, aren’t you?”

“No! That’s not what I meant—I mean, I only—” Catra snorted, and jabbed a claw in Glimmer’s direction.

“Lesson in politics for you sparkles: back a rat into a corner and she’ll _bite_. If I start shooting subordinates just because I think they _might_ betray me, people are going to start plotting against me out of self-preservation alone. Remember that.” Glimmer nodded.

“Tell me more” she blurted out, interrupting Catra’s diatribe. For once, the Generalissimo of the Horde appeared speechless. She stared, open-mouthed.

“What?” Glimmer flushed, and looked away, plucking at the coverlet. 

“I’m supposed to rule Bright Moon someday and I don’t…...I don’t know how. And my mom won’t tell me _anything_ and everyone thinks I’m ready for it and I’m _not_ and I don’t know what to do. And I want—I _need_ to be ready. I can’t let everyone down. So…...tell me more?” She couldn’t imagine what possessed her to tell _Catra_ of all people the worries that had been eating her up inside, the fears that she was too embarrassed to even tell her friends. But…...maybe that was why.

Catra wasn’t her friend, wasn’t her subject or servant or comrade. She was……Catra. A category all her own. Someone Glimmer had spent dozens of hours with her by now, but always in places like this, conference rooms and foreign chambers, banquet halls and the offices of obscure ministers. Liminal spaces. Places between worlds, where maybe anything was possible. She stared down, unable to look at Catra. Her eye ran along the rim of silver crescent moons and stars embroidered down the edge of the faded blue bedspread. It had been a gift from some long-dead Bright Moon envoy, centuries ago, she supposed.

“You want…...me……to teach you about politics? _Me?_ ” Catra still sounded flabbergasted. Glimmer shrugged.

“Of everyone I know you’re the most devious, untrustworthy, tricky, treacherous, sneaky, underhanded, ruthless—”

“Alright, alright, I get the picture!” Catra snapped. Glimmer finally forced herself to look up again, and the other girl caught her eye, staring intently. Glimmer flinched, but held the gaze.

“Ok. I’ll do it” she said abruptly, like she was trying to get the words out before she changed her mind. “Lesson number one. Ready for it?” Glimmer grinned and nodded. “One of King Narwahl’s councilors is working for the Horde. Figure out who and tell me.” Now it was time for Glimmer’s jaw to drop.

“ _What?_ ”

“Shadow Weaver started paying them off years ago and I’ve kept it up since I took over. It’s been very useful.” Catra gathered up her sheaf of papers and tracker pads and started shoving them into her pouch. “I think we’ve done enough for tonight.”

“But—how am I supposed to—what—” Glimmer was still gaping. Catra rolled her eyes.

“ _Watch_ them. _Listen_ to them. C’mon sparkles, you’re not _actually_ stupid. Figure it out.” Glimmer blinked.

“Hey, was that a compliment?” Catra unlatched the window and hoisted herself through.

“No!” she yelled, and then vanished down the outside wall. Muttering under her breath, Glimmer started to get ready for bed, when Catra’s head popped back through the window.

“Forgot to mention, I’m going to threaten to start a war tomorrow unless the Galacians agree to increase the Horde’s share of the tungsten mines. I’ll demand 50% but I’ll settle for 25%. I’m counting on you!” Glimmer threw a pillow at her, which arched through the window and vanished somewhere into the night. Catra vanished, laughing.

* * *

The next few days were……aggravating, to say the least. Glimmer was able to get ownership of the Silvertree Valley ceded to Frosta, but it took hours of wrangling, and both the Princess Alliance and the Horde ended up having to promise to substantially increase their promised technology transfers and to promise subsidies for several Galacian infrastructure projects. By the time they finished, Glimmer was pretty sure that Catra’s air of simmering rage was mostly unfeigned. Then, after lunch Catra brought the question of mining leases to the table, and true to her promises, brought the two nations to the brink of war within minutes. Glimmer eventually talked both Catra and King Narwahl down, and brokered a compromise of 30% control. That took most of the rest of the day, and by the Glimmer desperately wished she could show her emotions openly. Because she really, _really_ wanted to smash something.

It didn’t help matters that she was incredibly distracted, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Catra’s little challenge. At first, she was convinced it was Minister Trøen, who agreed with almost anything that Catra said. She was a strong supporter of the alliance, and would argue vehemently with Narwahl’s more isolationist advisors. But she was Minister for Science & Technology, and had the most to gain from the offer of Horde tech transfers. She made no secret of how excited she was about that opportunity, and seemed to have little interest in wider affairs.

Then she turned her attention to Lord Jæren of Kjenseth. He was the Minister for the Exchequer, and seemed to despise Catra and the Horde, picking fights with her at every opportunity. Maybe he was trying to throw people off his scent! Glimmer was very proud of herself for that deduction until he cornered her in the royal library one afternoon and tried to bully her into reducing the interest on coalition-backed loans by two-thirds while surrendering control of the collateral. Nobody _that_ stupid could have survived being a spy for decades, she decided.

“Why can’t you just _tell_ me?” she snapped one night, her patience fraying. Talks over the mutual defense treaty and military convention had dragged on all day, without much result. Narwahl wanted military advisors with no obligations, Catra wanted control of the Galacian armed forces, and Princess Frosta had been making it clear in her letters that _she_ wasn’t particularly happy about the idea of a strong Galacian military under _any_ circumstances. Tempers were wearing thin all around.

“Because then you wouldn’t learn anything, sparkles.” Catra was perched, cross-legged, on top of a wardrobe while Glimmer furiously paced. "Look, if I'm sending some of my men to rot here in this freezing wasteland then I want some say over what they're doing. That's not so much to ask, is it?" 

“You're being greedy, and you know it. Narwahl's never gonna agree to a Horde Force Captain in charge of the Royal Army. How am I supposed to learn anything when you won’t tell me anything?!”

“Here’s an idea: thinking! You should try it for once.” Glimmer hurled her tracker pad at Catra, who snagged it out of the air without looking up from the binder in her lap.

“I think” she said slowly “that we’re done here tonight.” Then she rose and leapt gracefully through the open window without another word.

“I hope you break your neck!” screamed Glimmer after her. She noticed several people staring at her through nearby windows carved out of the rockface, and pulled her head back inside with a sickly smile.

It wasn’t until later, when she was cleaning up, that she found the tracker pad, wedged behind the wardrobe, and marked by deep claw-marks where Catra’s hand had squeezed. _Huh_ she thought, staring at it. _She’s not as calm as she pretends to be_. Somehow, that made her feel better about the whole thing. 

* * *

She brought the defense talks to a close the next morning, hammering together a series of compromises that left nobody particularly happy but everyone more-or-less satisfied. With that done, the rest of the talks seemed to fall into place, questions of fishing rights and logging quotes dispatched speedily, the free trade agreement approved with barely _any_ shouting, financial questions wrestled down and brought to heel one by one. Catra was barely acknowledging her existence anymore, but after nearly two weeks, _everyone_ was ready to be finished. Glimmer still felt the rush of accomplishment as clause after clause of the proposed treaty fell into line. Galacia was one of the largest unaligned nations on Etheria, and this was the most important negotiation she’d ever conducted—well, the original Horde-Alliance Treaty had been bigger, but that had mostly been her mom and Catra. This was _hers_ (and Catra’s. And Narwahl’s. Still!) It felt good. But….

“Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?” Bow asked, during one of their late-night talks. She was curled up in bed with her tracker pad, ranting about the day’s travails. “I mean, more than the usual nonsense. Is it Catra? Did she do something?”

“Bow, I’m fine! And Catra is…...well, you know. Catra. No worse than usual.” She didn’t want to talk about it.

“All right, if you’re sure” he said, sounding a little doubtful. She’d nodded firmly though, and he’d launched into an animated retelling of his dads’ first visit to Bright Moon that left her giggling. She felt bad about not telling Bow everything, but……admitting that she’d asked Catra to teach her stuff— _stars_ , that was embarrassing. And her mom would freak out, and Bow would be Worried and Adora…...well, she wasn’t sure how Adora would react. But she didn’t want to find out. And what was even _more_ embarrassing was that she couldn’t even solve this stupid test.

It was still rattling around her mind when they finally met in the Galacian Chamber of Audiences to sign the draft treaty. Fires burned fiercely in bronze braziers along the walls, casting flickering shadows across the massive stone selkies that held up the vaulted ceiling. She wondered, yet again, at the difference between the Galacians and their neighbors in the Kingdom of Snows. Both nations shared this icy plateau in the Northern Mountains, but while Frosta’s people went out of their way to celebrate their snowbound society, the Selkies burrowed themselves into the deep rock of the mountain, locked the winter outside with stone and steel. Not that it really made a difference, she supposed.

As Olav distributed pens and copies of the treaty to herself, Catra, and His Majesty, she watched the royal entourage across the table intently. First Seneschal Jørgensen was in a perfect position to influence the Royal Galacian Army on behalf of the Horde—but maybe a little _too_ well-positioned? If the First Seneschal was a traitor, Glimmer doubted the Kingdom would’ve survived for long. Thain Utgård, the Sealkeeper, was a sly, sneaky, _annoying_ little selkie—but he’d only been appointed to his current position a year ago. Shadow Weaver _couldn’t_ have been bribing him.

One by one, the dignitaries affixed their signatures to the documents and rose to give a short speech. Glimmer tried to put aside her intense scrutiny, smiling and speaking about the bright future open to all Etherians, the many gains that would accrue to all from this unprecedented planetary unity. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Catra yawning. Then it was the King’s turn, scrawling his monogram across the foot of the documents, and standing to give a long, meandering oration.

“….I can only hope that these future days bring us together, that our lowland allies—and yes, I use that term now, our lowland allies do not renege on their fine words, and that Etheria knows clear skies and snowmelt for many years to come!” He finished at last, his courtiers barking approval or slapping their tails against the floor. Glimmer and Catra applauded politely as Narwahl turned and left, surrounded by his ministers and aides. Glimmer was still lost in thought.

Could it be Breivik, the Minister of Agriculture? She always stayed in the background, never drew attention to herself. The sign of a guilty conscience? But that wasn’t proof, she knew that. With a sigh, she packed up her stuff, watching the tail end of the King’s procession vanish through the far doors, Olav scampering behind them to prepare the next meeting or ceremony. Maybe it was Utgård after all. Shadow Weaver could have anticipated his promotion. She wouldn’t have chosen someone obvious; she would have picked a spy who nobody would—it hit Glimmer then like a bomb. _Oh_.

It was so _obvious_.

* * *

It was long after nightfall, but the party swept onward. Drums thundered, fiddles wailed, and the polished marble floor of the Great Hall was covered in whirling, twirling selkies as the royal court celebrated the signing of the treaty. Glimmer had stumbled through her obligatory rounds with His Majesty and a few other dignitaries, but now that the lamps were getting lit and the music was getting faster, she’d retired to the sidelines, feeling slightly awkward. Sometimes she wished she’d actually paid attention to those dance lessons mom had foisted on her. Not that she’d ever admit it.

Through a gap in the crowd, she saw Catra, resplendent in a red and black suit, locked hand-and-hand with Narwahl’s daughter, Princess Baleen, legs flying as they kept time to the beat. As Catra spun around, she caught sight of Glimmer and flickered her ears in acknowledgment. Then she broke off, whispering something in the princess’s ear that made her giggle, before snagging two mugs of punch from a servant and flopping into the chair next to Glimmer’s.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked as Catra wordlessly handed her one of the mugs. Catra shrugged.

“Another dozen divisions added to our mutual line of battle. A new strategic reserve of raw materials. Frosta getting undisputed ownership of a useless plot of ice and dirt. Take your pick.” Glimmer grunted, and sipped her punch.

“It’s Olav, isn’t it?” she murmured. Catra’s face stayed expressionless.

“He’s not one of the King’s advisors.”

“So? He’s there, in every conference or cabinet meeting, making sure there’s enough paper and ink and pastries. And nobody _ever_ looks at the servants.” One corner of Catra’s mouth quirked upward.

“Very good” she said.

“You could have just _told_ me that” pointed out Glimmer. Catra shook her head.

“No” she said. “I couldn’t have. This kind of stuff—it’s like dancing” she gestured at the cavorting couples that filled the room. “You can’t learn it by _learning_. You learn it by _doing_. You go out and you either trip and fall on your face or you don’t. Nothing else to it.”

“Huh” said Glimmer. “Is that how _you_ learned to be….to be you?” An ugly expression twisted across Catra’s face, and her hand tightened on the arm of her chair.

“I survived it” she said shortly. Glimmered wondered sometimes—Catra was so always so confident, so in-control, so poised it made her _sick_ with envy—but sometimes Glimmer glimpsed what lay underneath all that. And wondered about how much effort it took to keep it locked away. She didn’t say anything about that. Just

“Well, maybe you could still give me some pointers?”

“Yeah. I could do that.” They sat in silence as the ball spun around them. Finally, Catra sighed. “I’m leaving in an hour. There’s been some kind of skirmish with the Snake-Men to the south and I need to go sort that out. But I wanted to say…...good work with the negotiations. We got a better deal than I expected.”

“Narwahl’s not so bad once you get past the bluster. You just have to learn how he thinks. And you helped plenty. We…...make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“I guess we do” muttered Catra. “We’ll talk later.” She rose with a nod.

“Hey!” Glimmer called after her. “Watch your back out there Horde Scum, ok?” Catra grinned, a bright, sharp smile unlike her usual smirk.

“Don’t worry about me Sparkles. See you around.” Glimmer watched the Generalissimo slip off through the crowd, and finished her punch. Then she climbed to her feet and entered the scrum to try and find a dance partner.

After all, sometimes you just have to try and see what happens.

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is basically a followup/sequel to "The Mutual Benefit of All Parties". I wanted to do a story exploring how Catra and Glimmer's relationship had evolved since then, and also wanted to get at how some of Glimmer's Issues are manifesting themselves in this timeline. 
> 
> \- King Narwahl and Galacia are taken from the 1985 show.


End file.
